


Branding By Flame

by ClaireKat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireKat/pseuds/ClaireKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Cipher has found a way to break out of the mindscape after all these years, and the first and only person he feels like tormenting for the moment is none other than the now twenty year old Dipper Pines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of short fanfic chronicling the idea that boomsheika helped me come up with a couple months back! I've had this written for a while but since I'm uploading all of my works to this account, I thought I'd put the three parts of this up as a short fanfic with three chapters. I hope you enjoy!

He wasn’t sure what was happening to him…if only he could open his eyes. He had never been asleep like this…but was he even really asleep? What was happening to him? What was…what was he just thinking about? There was nothing to think about now, only pain, only that searing pain. Why couldn’t he scream? So many questions, so much _pain!_ Someone, if only someone could hear him, if only someone would notice, would open his eyes for him, would stop this searing pain!

_Aw, what’s wrong Pine Tree? Can’t take the heat?_

Dipper froze. Or, at least, his thoughts did. His body was undeniably not in his control, but he didn’t understand…it was impossible; he couldn’t be in this body if _he_ was taking over his body at the same time. The flames, the pain, the _voice_ …Dipper couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he hoped against all hope that this was all just one big nightmare that he would wake up from. He tried to close his eyes, to force them open, to do _anything_ , but it was useless. He wasn’t in control. And yet, his consciousness was frozen in his body as well.

His body sat up, and Dipper wanted to scream. He was petrified, as much as he didn’t want to admit it—in the years since he had taken to spending every summer in Gravity Falls with his twin sister and his Grunkle and the rest of the employees of the Mystery Shack, he had grown up both physically and mentally. He had developed a thicker skin…or so he thought. He hoped. He knew that he could deal with things that a younger version of him would never have been able to fathom facing—in fact, he could recall specific instances where he _had_ done so. And yet here he was, trapped in his own body without anything to think or say or do, watching as his hands moved to push his sleeves up, eventually just dropping his discarded shirt to the floor before his legs lifted his body and he found himself walking towards the fully body mirror in the hallway.

His eyes were a disgusting, distorted, harsh yellow. The pupils were slits, like cat eyes, and there was an air of insanity in them, true insanity, that could only belong to a being that wasn’t of this world. His vision was then forced to shift down, taking in the bright, still burning marks that were still searing into his body. His torso was a canvas, and the harsh blue flames that carved unintelligible images and shapes and patterns into the flesh served as the brush. He wished he could pass out, that he could actually be allowed to let the blackness of unconsciousness swallow him up. It was getting harder and harder for the simple existence of his awareness to breathe, in a sense; just existing in this place felt heavy, overbearing. For a moment Dipper wondered if this was the strain that two souls inhabiting one body put on the consciousness proper, the one that inhabited the body first, but the return of the pain attacking his nerves full force distracted his attempt to work out what was happening.

  _Whaddya think, Pine Tree? Not bad, right? I have to say, I’m quite impressed myself…you’ve grown into quite a fine young man, developed a fine young body…but, unfortunately, I’m in no need of its services anymore. Of your services, I suppose I should say—_

“Then why are you—”

The pain increased the moment he started speaking, and his internal rebuttal was instantly shut down. He was in Hell, that was the only explanation, the only suitable way to describe it. He was locked in a prison cell with no bars, no boundaries, with nothing but the intense pain of burning into flesh, to live cells and nerves that didn’t seem to dull or die no matter how intense the flames got. His body was being altered, controlled, and used as a streaming system for some sort of otherworldly communication…the pressure and pain exerted on his senses was too much, but too much didn’t exist here. There was always a worse. And there was no escape.

 _Ah ah, where are your manners? I was speaking, don’t interrupt me,_ the snarky voice replied, and Dipper wished harder than he had ever wished for anything in the span of his entire existence that the demon would leave him be. But it wasn’t time for that—on the contrary, this was his triumphant return, and there was nothing Dipper could do but sit and listen to whatever acerbic words the demon had for him.

_Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I don’t need your body anymore. I don’t need any body, actually. Would you believe it, I’ve made my own! I’m so happy about it; I think I’ll erase your memory every night, so I can brag to you about it over and over again! At least until my masterpiece is complete. It’s so nice to try out all these new bells and whistles on you…what do you think of these tattoos?_

Dipper’s body moved again, and he was helpless to watch as his arms and legs struck this pose and that, some of them extremely painful and distorting, but all in all allowing him to see every angle of the markings that he was being branded with. He felt his muscles, ligaments, and bones tearing and popping and such, just adding to the pain, though to his surprise the demon seemed to be able to mend the damage he did as well.

_I think the tattoos are enough for now…hope you don’t mind, I just want to see how far this control stretches from where I’m sitting. I mean, I really don’t care what you think, and I think these tattoos are fantastic either way…a little gift from me to you. But I can’t have you going and tattling on me too soon, you know? So it’s settled…I am going to erase your memories every night, after I get done giving you a new round of these artful artifacts…don’t you think they’re nice?_

_I was so pleased to see that I could make changes to another human body now, using my own as the streaming point. It was quite the struggle, let me tell you—human bodies are quite the complex machines to create from scratch. Oh, sure, you can make any old meat suit with some simple mechanics, a tweak here and a pull there and a tie to top it off, but to create one that can properly store the essence of a demon and withstand the use of its powers as well as have above average healing and immune capabilities…phew, I get tired just thinking about it again! And I’ve never been truly tired in my entire life. But that’s alright, none of that matters now. What matters is that I was successful, and here we are._

_Ugh, it was such a pain to try and figure out how to get back into my original form though! Being locked in a body is no fun; it’s unfortunate that this form of transportation is the only way for a demon like me to traverse on your plane of existence. But I had to figure it out so that I could take over your body for this in the first place; make sure that I got to perform my little light show while also ensuring that my human body wouldn’t give out on me or rot or disappear while I was out of it. But with a little more tweaking, here we are—oh, and in case you were wondering, I learned a lot of new tricks, more than just how to make a body. Your soul is still in your body because I learned how to bind souls; that was part of my training for how to get into my human form, believe it or not. But it makes it convenient—now I can carry out my handiwork and make sure that you stay put to enjoy every agonizing moment of it. Ah, isn’t pain just delightful?_

Dipper had nothing to say. He was unconscious without truly being so. He had given up; he was momentarily broken. He couldn’t take anymore, but he couldn’t escape. He had run out of options, there was nowhere to go, there was nothing to do but be silent and suffer. Bill had mentioned erasing his memories every night…he would be grateful for it now. There was nothing Dipper felt he wanted more in this moment than to forget this pain, to displace himself from it in any way possible.

 _Now now, Pine Tree, let’s not go getting hopeful,_ Bill jeered. _I’m not going to remove the pain, oh no. And I’m especially not going to remove the tattoos. Why, like I said, these are a gift from me to you! It’s beyond generous of me, of course, considering I’m the one giving_ you _a welcome back gift…but I have something even bigger planned for the town, so don’t worry. This is all just part of the preliminary package…I want to make sure that the occasion is preceded with just the right amount of anticipation, otherwise the main event will fall flat, and I really just can’t stand a party that’s a bore. But of course, you already knew that!_

Dipper remained silent, completely helpless within his own body, his own mind, his own consciousness. Bill knew that his message had been conveyed, and he would still have a few full nights of torture to look forward to. Ah, it was so good to be back, back and in control and full of all the power that he had only been envisioning as a distant plan those few years ago. Considering the length of his existence, this plan had gone along much more smoothly and quickly than he had originally projected. Chaos would reign for the puny humans of this dimension, this world, and everything was going so well for him…the universe was truly and finally smiling upon him.

_Well, I suppose that’s good enough for tonight…I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Ta ta for now._

Suddenly, Dipper was in his room, curled up in his bed, as awake as if he had just been shocked by a bolt of energy imbued lightening. His skin burned, and he threw the sheets off, doing his best to hold in the scream that threatened to tear from his lips as lingering wisps of blue flames faded from the scattered and incomplete images that decorated his torso and arms. What…had happened? Had he even slept last night? The sun was already rising…but he felt as though he had just been through an impossible ordeal. A heavy weight of sickening premonition loomed over him, and as Dipper drug himself out of bed and attempted to find a shirt that could cover up this mysterious, nauseating writing, he tried to reach for the nonexistent memories that scratched at the back of his subconscious.

If the blue flames were any indication, Dipper had a hunch about how these markings had come to claim him. He double checked the Shack to ensure that the dream catchers he had put up all those years ago were still in place, and sure enough, not one of them was out of place or worn in any way. He wasn’t sure what to do, what to say…he would keep it a secret for now. The images were incomplete. Would the culprit be back? As Dipper made his way downstairs for breakfast, he mildly hoped that his assumption would validate itself.

“Hey kiddo, long night or something?” Grunkle Stan greeted, instantly noting the defeated and exhausted face that his great nephew wore. “You look like someone just tried to use you as a log on their fire or something.”

“Naw, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Dipper diverted quickly. If only Grunkle Stan knew how right he was. It would only be a matter of time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grunkle Stan questions Dipper about his sudden (Bill's curse induced) tattoos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a continuation of this piece inspired by boomsheika and her human!Bill, I wrote all three of these chapters separately so I'm sorry if the flow is kind of clunky. I hope you enjoy!

“Hey, you don’t look so good, kid…did’ja not sleep well last night or what?”

This acknowledgement startled the boy, a boy named Dipper Pines, causing him to almost topple over with the box that he was in the process of moving for some imperceptible reason at the beckon of his dear old Grunkle Stan. He steadied himself against the couch to his side, huffing a bit and scratching the back of his neck right beneath his ponytail. The Dipper Pines that Grunkle Stan spoke to now was a robust eighteen, his features still sprinkled with traces of his boyhood here and there, especially on his face; despite the sparse outcropping of facial hair that trailed down from his sideburns and followed the curve of his rounded, muscular chin.

He had gotten in the habit of tying back his untamable mass of floofy brown hair in a convenient ponytail, though he did make it a point to keep his bangs long enough that they still managed to cover the embarrassing birth mark that crowned his forehead. Taking a settling breath, Dipper assured that the box he had set down wasn’t going anywhere before turning with more hesitancy than normal to face Stan. He did his best to try and keep his expression light and casual despite the turmoil that churned in his chest down to his stomach—Stan was always so perceptive, hopefully this time he would be able to escape the old man’s scrutiny, though from the looks of the situation so far it wasn’t likely.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine, as fine as I usually am. I mean, Mabel came barreling in around three, so that was a little bit of an unexpected disturbance…but really, was it? I mean I know you guys never hear her but damn, we really need to try and limit the number of these parties she’s going to. I know she’s even more of a social light than before, but her schedule _is_ starting to mess with my sleep—”

“That’s not it kid, and you know it.” Stan’s voice was finite and calm as he thread his fingers together in a gesture that indicated he wasn’t going to let Dipper steer him off track. “C’mon, out with it kid. What’s eating you? You know I’m not gonna make a ruckus over it, at least not after I’ve given considerable thought to whatever you have to get off your chest.”

“My chest…haha, yeah…” Dipper’s voice trembled with an intensity that Stan hadn’t heard in a while. He watched patiently as Dipper raised his hand to the center of his chest and bunched his shirt into his fist. Stan could discern a twinkling of pain and despair in his great nephew’s eyes, something that always shot him like an poison-tipped arrow through the heart on the rare occasions that Dipper truly was suffering. They had grown much closer over the years; secrets had come undone, and through the clearing of the air a bond thicker than the blood between them had slowly formed as well.

“C’mon kid, out with it—the suspense is gonna kill me before my age can if you don’t hurry up and spit it out.”  
           

Dipper took a deep breath, unclenching his fist as his expression twisted reactively as though the movement was painful before he moved the box beside him to the floor and leaned casually against the couch’s arm. “Something…something happened to me last night. Something I can’t explain, though I do have a pretty good theory for it. Actually, I’d wager it’s an almost irrefutable claim, but you know I don’t like to claim definitives until I have more proof.”

Stan’s eyebrows knitted together in worry, though his gaze was not deterred from Dipper’s gloomy form. He noticed with more observation that Dipper was dressed in a fashion that completely covered his body—his legs were hidden under jeans, and his arms and chest were easily covered by a simple plaid button up. Though he normally did sport such a shirt, the fact that he left the sleeves down was instantly telling to Stan…wearing his clothes in such a fashion just wasn’t Dipper’s usual style, especially in the heat of the summer that settled over the town at this time of year.

“Alright, quit with the cryptic quips, just get to the point already!”

Without any hesitance, Dipper forcefully pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and unbuttoned the fabric concealing his chest in one swift motion. Stan did his best to conceal the shudder that shot down his spine as his eyes gazed over the transformed body of his great nephew. He could barely hold back the stream of frantic thoughts that went zooming through his head as he attempted to make sense of the branded scribbles that seemed to cover almost every inch of Dipper’s torso. A couple of discreet, calming breaths later, his vision began to clear and he was able to glean more understanding about the markings just by examining their nature. He knew exactly which being had had his way with decorating his great nephew’s body, and for a moment he was completely speechless with rage and a need for vengeance.

“It’s been happening every night for the past week,” Dipper began to explain weakly; Stan’s eyes shifted from his chest to his hollow eyes, and the defeated aura that emanated from him shocked Stan’s system once again. “He doesn’t appear in my dreams anymore, but I think it’s because he’s finally gotten another body or something. Whatever the reason, even though he’s not in my dreams, this is proof that he’s definitely been around. Lingering in the shadows or something. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know how to catch him. I’ve got dream catchers on every window, every door, over the beds, everything. But if he’s finally managed to break out of the Dreamscape, they won’t have the same effect…and it’s clear that he’s able to manipulate real space now.

“It always happens while Mabel’s out, or after she’s asleep—he never strikes when he thinks that someone will be awake to catch him. But every night I’ve woken up, covered in more of these tattoos…they burn my clothes, agonizing blue flames etching these damn cryptograms into my skin! No matter how much I hit them, pat them, blow on them, they never go out until the image is complete, and they seem to just hurt worse instead of less the more often it happens. I think for now he’s done, considering I didn’t wake up to the blue flames last night, and he’s practically covered every available inch of my torso from the base of my neck to my hipbones. He started getting frisky trying to expand some of the tattoos on my hips down my legs, but for some reason he just capped them off and decided that was enough for now. I can’t get rid of them, they’re not ink…they’re just burns. Precise and permanent burns of whatever images he’s seen fit to brand me with, and I don’t know what message he’s trying to convey! I just—”

“That’s enough, I get it now,” Stan retorted flatly, dropping his hands from their contemplative and listening gesture as he shifted his posture stiffly to rise from his chair. “I’ll start researching, do some digging, see if I can find any traces of an answer from some of our outside sources. If he’s back, and he’s really causing mischief in the town, I guarantee you, you aren’t the only one that’s been suffering under whatever new form of torture disguised as mock communication  he’s gone with this time. You know how he always thrived on pain…there’s no way he’d be content using just you as his new human canvas. Do you know if your sister has been subject to any of this?”

Dipper shook his head, instantly on the same investigative wavelength as Stan. “No, not that I’ve seen. I’m assuming it’s because she’s been out in public so much he hasn’t really had a good chunk of time that he could use to brand her—”

“We have to make sure that she continues to stay out and stay active then. That won’t be a problem, we can just let her continue with what she’s doing now, but you need to keep an extra eye on her.” Stan paused to slap his hand to his face in aggravation. “And you know that’s not the eye I mean! Your sister is a wild card, and it’s her unpredictable nature that makes her a good target for him. Not to mention her ties to you and I. Plus, she’s like a walking advertisement; ever since she started going to all these parties she’s been showing more and more skin, a shoulder here and stomach there, and you know that if he’s been so generous in the amount of graffiti he’s left on you, he’ll probably pick someone next that will serve as a good walking advertisement for him and his work. Or rather, his return.”

Dipper pulled anxiously at his ponytail, knowing every word coming from his Grunkle’s mouth was unfortunately and undeniably right. Mabel would be the perfect target to brand if the mysterious tattoo artist was planning on utilizing human flesh as his messaging system to communicate that he was back in action and ready to take on whoever decided to rise to the challenge. Dipper couldn’t help but tug on his hair harder as he gazed over his heavily tattooed chest and arms, swallowing hard at the number of empty, all knowing eyes scattered in various areas across the designs that stared back at him with an unwavering persistence. Even though they were just images, Dipper couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that these eyes _were_ real, and they were watching him. They kept an eye on him, on his every move, recorded his every word and every action and even observed those around him, the ones he interacted with on a day to day basis.

In a reflexive action he quickly buttoned his shirt and un-bunched his sleeves. He made sure that every eye nestled uncomfortably in his skin was covered up, so paranoid by the idea of one of them managing to escape his notice that he shuffled over to one of the mirrors that hung in the living room to make sure that his attempt to stay covered up was thorough and complete. He let out a relieved sigh afterwards, the weight of his breath almost palpable as Stan observed the slowly deteriorating form of his great nephew, slightly taken aback in shock at the sight of him in such a state that Stan never thought he would see, or have to see.

Dipper was strong, much stronger than people gave him credit for. Ever since he was young he had always had a thirst for adventure, for uncovering secrets and unearthing great mysteries and solving them with a passion and verve that probably would have put the great sleuths of legend to shame. He had suffered plenty along the way, whether in love or in loss or in physical injury, but he had never let any of it stop him. No matter what obstacles stood in Dipper’s way, he had always been able to overcome them, either alone or with the help of his friends and family, but he had overcome them all the same. To see him in this sorry state now, in a checkmate with a being that couldn’t be pinned down, couldn’t even really be traced…it turned Stan’s stomach and lit a fire in him that swore the most powerful vengeance he could muster on the creature that time and time again had been the source of suffering for both him and his family.

Little did Stan know that the cause of strife and the object of his hatred was much nearer than he ever could have anticipated. Perched on the roof of the shack that Dipper and Stan now stood in the culprit sat leisurely, taking in the view of the town and the forest as he absently sipped a cup of tea he had procured from who knows where. It didn’t really matter to him, considering he basically owned this world now—he wasn’t restricted by the ties of the Dreamscape or by the binds of a typical human body this time around. He had customized himself and forged his own path back into this world, and his little gift to the Pines of those images that heralded his return was just the tip of the plans he had in store for the quiet hollow known as Gravity Falls.

He gave the golden levitating eye patch that covered his right eye a playful spin, unable to contain a malicious chuckle as he rose to his feet and leaned casually against the cane he always carried with him. The warm summer breeze that ghosted over his skin presented him with a welcome sensation…the presence of sensation at all was a gift in and of itself. While he much preferred the stabbing pain of an icy chill or searing tongue of fire, the very ability to experience such sensations only fueled his passion and exhilaration. It wasn’t fair that Dipper got to experience the fanciful scald of his elegant flames, but then again, he could subject himself to the same abuse any time he liked. Now that he was free, had finally overcome the obstacles that had kept him restrained to a finite plane since the beginning of his existence, he had all the time in the world…and plenty of things to catch up on; starting with Gravity Falls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper finally manages to consult with the devious demon who cursed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for the moment, not sure if I plan on continuing this piece or not but I know I'd need to make some major changes considering the most recent episode. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

After a day of working at the Mystery Shack, Dipper was admittedly spent. Over the years it had become rare that he would turn down any of his Great Uncle’s demands, though he rather saw them as requests now. Still, as he grew older the tasks that were asked of him seemed to grow more difficult. He had taken to working around the Shack doing everything from cleaning to moving things out of storage to manning the checkout area, considering Wendy was no longer living in town. She only came back to Gravity Falls about every other summer now that she had finally managed to get out of town by attending some university in Seattle, but Dipper honestly tried not to think about that too much. Though he knew that she was probably happier with her situation now that she wasn’t stuck in Gravity Falls, the town that she had originally considered boring and had slowly discovered held much deeper and scarier secrets, he couldn’t help but feel a shallow ache in his heart whenever he thought about her lingering absence.

He shook such worthless thoughts out of his head, mussing up his hair in frustration before just sliding down and leaning limply against the tree he had picked to use as shelter against the sun’s beating rays.  His arms froze in their movements as his eyes caught a glimpse of the etchings in his skin; he felt nothing more than an utter and irreversible disgust towards them. It had only been a week since the ritual of his branding had completed; he still wasn’t used to looking at his bare torso and arms and seeing the hideous markings that he was branded with conceivably forever. He had a sickening feeling that he would never be used to it.

“What’s with the long face, kid?”

In an instant Dipper was on his feet. He balled his hands into fists and slid into a defensive fighting stance, his eyes darting around like lightening as he scanned the area and did his best to pinpoint where the voice had come from, who its owner might be. The chill of fear that had propelled his body into such a stance spread to freeze the blood in his veins as his eyes fell upon the figure he had been so frantically searching for. He could barely muster the strength to blink in the face of the figure that stood before him now, in a new form that somehow managed to scare him more than before.

Generally it might have been a sound inquiry to make, how the boy was still able to recognize the figure before him despite his drastically transformed state. In all honestly, though, it would have been more appropriate to try and decipher the reasons that Dipper _wouldn’t_ have been able to recognize the demon that sauntered over to him now. The hat and cane were the first clues, considering that his ongoing nemesis never seemed to go anywhere without them. They weren’t accessories; they were simply a part of him. The strength and eeriness of his aura, coupled with his voice and the spectral eye patch that aptly concealed his right eye all pointed to only one identity to matched the person that approached him now.

“Stay back. You stay away from me!” Dipper did his best to swallow his fear and still the trembling in his voice; it was also deeper now, and he hoped that the determination in his eyes and the power behind his command would instill at least some form of reverence or fear in the stranger that wasn’t actually so.

The man simply smirked, a smirk that was so assured in its confidence and mockery that the power of his expression almost stung Dipper like a sharp slap to the face. He held his ground, though, and the figure ran his lone eye appraisingly up and down the matured boy in observation before resuming his pace and nearing him once more. Dipper felt as though the figure’s aura might actually singe him if he let him get too close, and he found his retreat quickly blocked by the tree that he had recently taken refuge under. Despite the brightness of the mid afternoon sun, the man’s aura seemed to darken everything around him, anything it touched. The phenomenon only terrified Dipper more as he practically felt its jagged edges scraping at his cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Pine Tree? Running out of places to hide?” The man smirked, and Dipper knew there was no use in trying to avoid him…that had never worked in the past. This demon was crafty, coy, and very dedicated to his hunt. He had finally managed to escape whatever place Dipper and Mabel had managed to send him to, foolishly and hopefully thinking they had managed to finally seal him away for all eternity. Dipper actually couldn’t believe this man had succeeded in clawing his way out from whatever inconsequential pocket of space they had locked him in. After their last exchange all those years ago, he was sure he would be rid of this infernal, twisted, chaotic demon for good…but Bill Cipher always found a way to rise from the ashes of whatever demise he faced.

“You know, _I’ve_ been spending a lot of time hiding for the past couple of years…funny thing is, I didn’t even have a choice about whether or not I wanted to spend the rest of my days drowning in shadows. Actually, believe it or not, I ended up in that hateful pit of non-reality because of these two acerbic little kids…well, I’m sure you remember them. I’d be surprised if you didn’t, considering you were one of them, Pine Tree—”

“Quit playing around,” Dipper snapped. “I’m not in the mood for small talk, or banter, or any type of game that you feel like playing. I want to know how you managed to escape, Bill. How did you manage to rip your way out of that otherworldly prison and make your way back into proper reality? And from there, how did you manage to procure another human form? I thought once your ties with the Dreamscape were cut, you really had lost all touch and power you ever had in any realm of reality. Once we banished you from the only realm you could exist in, you should have ceased to exist! Why can’t you just take your defeat for once and leave me _alone?!_ ”

The demon contained a minor chuckle behind one of his silky gloves. “Oh, are you going to start getting all emotional now? Is this how our touching reunion was destined to play out? An emotionally charged outburst from you, the boy who thought he had finally vanquished evil from the universe, and me, the evil that just keeps coming back. We really should end this little get together in a touching embrace, something to signify the eternal bond we share, the proof that no matter how many times you try to extinguish me, I’ll always come back _blazing_ …and each time, I’m going to try and burn away at you a little bit more than the last.

“Surely by now you must understand, Pine Tree…you cannot be rid of me. You never will be. I am eternal, and you are a blip of inconsequential life on this earth. Besides, without evil, where is the good in this world? Does it even really exist? Good without evil is just…that’s all there is, but there’s no need for a designation when there’s only one note possible to play in a song, you know? Or, goodness, am I getting too complicated for you? I know your weak human brain has managed to overcome my plans a few times, kudos by the way. But being out of touch with proper reality for so long, I forget that there are actually very strict limits on the range of human comprehension and knowledge. Please, do let me know if I’m going to fast, I’d hate to make you dizzy—”

“Shut _up!”_ Dipper couldn’t take it anymore. He aimed a heavy blow at the demon’s austere and cocky face, barely managing to register the actions that came next. Just as his fist flew into the empty space left by Bill’s inhumanly fast dodge, a bone cracking blow landed in the middle of his spine and knocked the air out of him as he fell, flat and gasping, onto the hard, warm ground below.

“You’d do well to remember some of the respect you used to pay me, Pine Tree,” the demon seethed, his cane still digging between the vertebrae where he had landed a blow on Dipper’s back. “Be grateful I didn’t actually break anything this time; you might have a nasty bruise, but you’ll survive. Either way, this is a good learning opportunity. That excruciating pain you’re experiencing now? You’d do well not to forget it, boy. Because this is just the tip of the iceberg of what I can do. I didn’t just procure this body—I made it, from scratch. After I finally managed to tear a rift in that petty piece of time space you and your delight of a sister threw me in without any second thoughts, I gathered up the basic building blocks for one of these cheap meat suits and wove them together with my own expert fingers. I think it turned out pretty well myself…”

Dipper craned his head around, panting in response to the pain that still pulsed from the butt of Bill’s cane which he didn’t seem too keen on removing from its place just yet. He kept the boy pinned as he absently shined his cufflinks and straightened his lapels. Noticing the boy attempting to squirm, he leaned more weight on the cane and continued his extrapolation. “I think it suits me, really. No pun intended. But, I’ve managed to secure a form that moves the way I need it to, and doesn’t diminish too much of my powers. Ugh, just remembering how trapped I felt in a borrowed body, what _was_ I thinking? I have to offer you at least a tiny bit of gratitude, Pine Tree…without you and Shooting Star, I wouldn’t have been forced into a situation where I had to think outside of the box—I never would have been able to reform into the amazing being you get the privilege of being trampled by today.

“But I didn’t come to just gloat.” Bill finally lifted his cane from Dipper’s back, and the boy did his best to retain any further tears that attempted to escape in the wake of the pain he had just suffered. “I assume you got my messages?” The demon slid Dipper’s sleeve back without a second thought, appraising his craftsmanship with the eye of a serial killer admiring a freshly flayed body. “Ah, superb. They seem to have retained the lingering glow I was hoping for, a personal touch I was fond of. It was really a last minute decision, but I think it was worth it.”

“You branded me with these for _life_ , you psychotic—”

“Now now, there’s no need for flattery,” Bill crooned, tapping Dipper on the nose with the butt of his cane as he took a few steps back from the boy’s splayed form. “I was just returning the favor, the way you and your sister attempted to lock me away for the remainder of _my_ existence. ‘An eye for an eye,’ as the humans say, yes? And besides, coming by and leaving a note on the door just isn’t really my style…I was hoping you’d come looking for me when the first marks started turning up, but you just threw these terribly patterned shirts on and went about your business. I was honestly hurt, you trying to practically throw me under the rug like that! And after I worked so hard on perfecting the process for the transfer of the symbols, just for you…

“But I overheard you and Stan finally discussing the nature of these marks I presented you with…I was close to coming out of hiding at that point, really; so giddy that you had finally come around to acknowledging me! But thankfully I managed to hold back, just to give you a few more days of suspense…and now here we are! I really just wanted to stop by to say one thing…”

The demon crouched down, tilting Dipper’s chin up joltingly with the rough butt of his cane. “You and your family better prepare yourself, Pine Tree. Bill Cipher is back in town, and he’s got a whole new set of tricks up his sleeve and more than a couple years of repressed revenge to enact on the ones who caused him all this unnecessary turmoil.”

The demonic aura that emanated from Bill physically sucked the life out of the vegetation around he and Dipper as the words slithered out of his smooth lips. The grass in which Dipper was still laying turned crunchy, withered, and gray, and the tree above them slowly decayed until each one of its brittle leaves drifted down on the duo like dead snowflakes. Dipper couldn’t suppress the intense fear that seized him in this moment, his wide, petrified eyes meeting Bill’s confident, glowing ones and practically getting swallowed by them. Although he was no longer the naïve boy that had faced this demon years before, the demon himself was quite transformed as well. He knew that whatever the demon had planned for he and his family now, it would probably take an act of fate to make sure they all got out alive this time.

“Well, you have fun passing along that message to the rest of your family for me, okay?” Bill’s aura lingered, though the darkness of it didn’t seem to touch his words. He rose to his feet lithely, spinning his eye patch absently before wiggling his fingers at the frozen boy with a pleasant smile. “If you need me, I’ll be in the neighborhood.”

He turned and strode away from the boy without a second glance. He knew that his job had been accomplished—he could tell from the absolutely empty, hopeless expression he had observed nestled in the boy’s eyes. As he vanished back into the woods in which he spent most of his time, he noticed the beams of sunlight waning the further into the dense vegetation that he walked. The gradual swell of darkness was just as he liked it, and it fit his own return to power quite well. This new stint in Gravity Falls would be nothing like the previous ones, and he knew it. Now that he had finally laid all of his cards on the table, he was almost bursting with anticipation to see what piece his adversaries would play next. After all, in the end they were nothing more but players in his game.


End file.
